WARNING - This site is for adults only!

This web site contains sexually explicit material:
Join Today!

Click here to replay the video

Click Here for Purchase Options


My Real Stories

Fantasy: nothing but a table

You’re tied face-up on the table with various platters arrayed on and around you. Your blindfold is firmly in place, and a final “thank you, Sir” escapes your lips before your gag is secured.

Our guests, two or three couples with perhaps a single man or two, arrive. You focus on each sound of shoes shuffling in the hall, each knock at the door, and each new voice as we begin to mingle in the other room.

When all guests have arrived, I bring them to the dining room, and you revel in the gasps of delight from our visitors.

I watch your flesh redden as you absorb the fact that you are our centerpiece. You are a place setting, though one that I actively encourage my guests to touch, fondle and pinch. Careful, my pet - you mustn’t react… The centerpiece shouldn’t risk disturbing the setting.

Once the meal is completed, I retire with our guests to the adjacent room. You listen to the sounds of pleasure emanating from the doorway; you drip with desire as you know that your setting has inspired such hedonistic pleasure, and you long to be included while trying to accept your place away from the intermingled bodies.

————————

After some time, just as it seems that the bodies in the adjacent room are reaching their crescendo, I break away and begin whispering in your ear.

“You poor thing… Are you okay, my pet? Are you enjoying listening to our pleasure?”

I begin to remove your gag.

“You must be hungry, my little cumslut,” I say, raising my voice as you hear the others join me once more in the dining room.

As you stretch your jaw and become comfortable once more in this new degree of freedom, you listen to us prepare your meal. The sound of flesh impacting flesh, of low moans and heavy breathing, shatters the silence. Each item fed into your mouth, each taste you receive, is coupled with that of our guests’ cum. You can’t help but moan as you realize what you’re tasting.

“That’s right, my pet… Are you my cumslut?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl… Do you know your place?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Very good girl; you receive nothing tonight without the taste of who you truly are.”

When we have finished feeding you each morsel of your meal, I untie your limbs and remove your blindfold.

“Serve our guests drinks, my pet.”

I lead the group back to the sitting room and we begin to chat. You arrive with a tray and kneel before each person, cupping their glass in both hands, and hand him or her their drink. Once served, you are dismissed once more - this time to clear the table.

“Don’t forget, my pet.”

You pause, and turn around to look at me, awaiting my instruction.

“You left a puddle in the middle of the table; lick up every drop.”

“Yes, Sir!”

As you clean, you notice the pauses in conversation as we watch your movements through the doorway. Occasionally requests come your way: turn this direction, bend over and reveal yourself in a new way, pause and spend a moment tracing your fingers over your clit, etc.

———————–

Once your chore was complete, I would have you kneel in the middle of the sitting room.

“You’ve been a good girl tonight, my pet, but your work isn’t yet done. Thank each of our guests for joining us this evening and for putting you in your place. Offer pleasure to each one to show your gratitude; if they wish, they may sample either your cunt or your mouth.”

Your eyes light up with anticipation.

“Yes, Sir!”

With each guest, you kneel in front of them and thank them, asking them if you can use your tongue or offer your cunt for their pleasure. As you make your way around the room, some using your mouth upon their cocks or cunts, some bending you over and fucking you, the rest of us continue talking and laughing. You know the rules, though: any time you are brought to the edge, you ask permission to release.

You pant, “Please, Sir, may I cum?”

“No, my pet. Tonight is about our guests’ pleasure, not yours.”

You groan each time as your frustration builds, your struggle to prevent yourself from releasing more intense.

Occasionally I would break conversation - the room would become silent except for your and your current partner’s breathing, your flesh pounding against each other, or the sounds of your mouth being roughly used.

I would break the silence by saying, “You filthy whore. Look at you: coated in cum, dripping with use, and still fucking yet another.”

Your eyes would roll into the back of your head as you heard my voice pointing out precisely what you are: a fucktoy passed around the room, a whore used for others’ pleasure. Each degrading remark would push you one step further - intensifying your struggle to maintain control of your desperately needed release…

—————————

Once the evening was complete, each guest fully satisfied, I would put your leash on your collar and we would walk our guests to the door. You would listen to them thanking me for the meal, for the opportunity to relax, and for the refreshing evening.

As the door closes behind the last guest, I turn to you.

"You were my good girl tonight. Come to bed.”

I would lead you, crawling, to the bed, and as we retired for the evening, your leash still present and hanging from the bedpost, exhaustion would reign. Exhaustion coupled with frustration emanating from your body, juice dripping between your legs, what cum you didn’t find and clean dried upon your flesh, and you filled with pride as you see the smile on my face - my pleasure and pride in such a good girl.

--Sir


Buy Videos Subscribe